Words of Inspiration

Nothing is more inspiring than the sky on a cold, clear night.


Dance, Kittens, Dance: A Fur-baby Story

As promised in my last post, “Updating Life,” this is the story of our two Meezers, Jitterbug and Lindyhop, but mostly about Jitterbug.

I found Jitters first. I’d been checking every place I could think of for potential fur-babies.

“Sophie” in the shelter

Pretty quickly I found PetFinder. Great website because it partners with a lot of shelters and you can search by animal, breed, age, gender, and distance. Jitters was listed as Sophie and was quite a ways away (a good two hour drive at least), but she was absolutely gorgeous so I had to give her shelter a call.

The lady that ran the shelter was honest with me.

She felt that Jitters would never be a social cat. Jitters wouldn’t interact with her at all and would hiss when she would try to pet her. She’d never bitten the lady, but then, the lady hadn’t really given her the opportunity. We could have her for free, but it was with the understanding that we would never have a nice friendly cat that would cuddle and purr. Her history was largely unknown, except that she’d been found with her sister, Suki, and brought to the shelter.

Well, I wasn’t daunted by that, and neither was my roommate. My family had once said I could tame bobcats, and I doubted I’d lost that touch. And besides, free Siamese cat. Look at her, she’s gorgeous! So we made the drive.

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Updating Life

I would be the first to admit that I’m not the best at finishing things. It’s been approximately 3 months since my last post and I have no less than 8 drafts of posts that are all but finished, barely started, just an idea, or multiple versions of the same thing that I can’t figure out which to use. Those same 8 drafts have been there for the past 3 months, completely untouched. I haven’t even opened WordPress in that time.

Was the break intentional? Initially, but it wasn’t meant to be prolonged.

I had had grand plans of taking the entire month of November (NaNoWriMo) and all my free time therein to finish (or come close to finishing) Freak Accidents (because I actually do have an end in mind), but something happened somewhere in the middle of November that made me too excited to accomplish those grand plans.

My life updated. A friend needed a roommate and I realized that it was financially feasible for me to move out. We decided we’d move at the end of December.

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A Psychological Experiment

So I have this theory that if I were to type for an extended period of time without using punctuation or spaces or anything that it would gradually make me more and more hyper especially since we kind of use punctuation to give ourselves pauses and to give us a place to breathe but an extension of this experiment isn’t just to see if it’ll make me hyper but also to see if it’ll make the reader hyper I mean what would happen and don’t get me started on typingwithoutspaceswhichisreallyhard when you think about it because my fingers sort of automatically go for the space bar when I’m finished with the word and it’s kind of the same way with periods and commas and question marks and exclamation marks and by now you’re just thinking that I need to stop because you need to breathe which is really weird because you’re just reading this in your brain and your brain doesn’t need to breathe but it kind of feels like you’re about to hyperventilate because I’m not stopping how long can she keep this up no this needs to stop I bet I can keep going like this forever it’s just free writing after all and writing whatever comes into my head and you just thought about paragraph breaks because don’t I normally break my paragraphs up a lot smaller than this but it just keeps going and please make it stop what if I just decided tonotdospacesanymorefortherestofthispostyou’dprobablygetreallyannoyedwithme ok I’ll stop that now because my brain can’t handle it anymore are you hyper yet I kind of feel hyper and my breathing has noticeably quickened and I kind of feel awake and alive hey maybe I should do this every time the weekday afternoon drudge hits and I know you know what I’m talking about because it’s that moment you have every day when you just can’t seem to function anymore and you just need a nap or a cliff and you’d kind of like to take a nap but you’d also kind of like to jump off the cliff and it happens every day between 2 and 3 o’clock and it’s absolutely horrible except it never really seems to happen on Friday maybe that’s because I usually go home around 2 or 3 on Fridays and I’m so close to going home that the drudge time doesn’t really hit me that hard and I can’t tell if this experiment has worked yet because I can’t see your faces while you’re reading but what would happen if I’ve gone on and on and on and on and on and on and on like this forever like for five hundred words or more and all of a sudden with no explanation and no punctuation whatsoever besides apostrophes because we can’t live without apostrophes because they make possessives and contractions and I’m not going around saying I am and cannot and whatever and saying the bone of the dog instead of the dog’s bone because that’s just too wordy anyway what if after going on and on for all that time I just stopped

A Time for Change

Recently I wound up changing desks at work. One of my co-workers transferred to a different department, and I’ve always liked the placement (and space) of her desk, so I asked if I could move.

It wasn’t a big move. My new desk is just a few feet from my old one, and it took me only about half-an-hour to get all my things moved from my old desk to my new desk (much of this time taken up by taking my computer apart and setting it back up again, and moving all my magnet words from one desk to the other).

And yet I was very excited to come to work on the day that I moved and every day since, but I couldn’t put my finger on why I got so excited. I think I’ve figured it out now.

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Finding Your Own Voice

I’m going to suggest a completely absurd thought about writing, here. You might unfollow me for this and say that I’m no real writer.

But have you ever considered the absurd notion that what you wrote might just be absolutely fine the first time? That maybe, just maybe, writing doesn’t need to always be this arduous process of endless writing and re-writing and slaving over several versions of the same piece and trying to decide which one is best?

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